


Everything Will Pass (Eventually)

by MonsieurMadeleine



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Rape Recovery, Suicide, Suicide Notes, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 03:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13825422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsieurMadeleine/pseuds/MonsieurMadeleine
Summary: Ever since his father died under mysterious circumstances, Will has been unhappy. Well... not extremely unhappy, but still. Finding a loved one name Matthew has lightened the moods, calmed the emotional hurricanes in Will's mind. And yet another problem presents itself: Will is married off for the sake of money. It isn't that Will doesn't like the much older Bedelia, but it's just that he doesn't feel what he feels for Matthew. And then the war comes. Side by side, Will and Matthew stand the storms, but there is just one thing besides the fighting: Who is this mysterious man lurking at the young couple and what does he want from them? It is said that his name is Hannibal and that he is a psychiatrist. As time passes, Will gets to know this man very well. Wondering if Hannibal isn't the one in need of therapy.





	Everything Will Pass (Eventually)

To the lucky finder of this letter.

Sorry you had to find this letter, but sometimes things just go as they go. Let me introduce myself, shortly. Just in case you don’t know me at all. I’m William Christopher Graham and I have been living here in London for as long as I have lived. I have a wife named Bedelia Graham (née Du Maurier) and a son named James Graham. If you don’t know me, please pass on the letter to either of them. Ask them to deliver the letter to Hannibal Lecter, to whom I’ll also address a part of the letter.

To my wife Bedelia:

I sorry it all turned out like this, but we both know that this is for the best. We weren’t happy together, and we would never be. A forced marriage never works out, or at least not for those doomed to marry. Now don’t think I lied all those years, saying that I love you. I would never lie to you, or at least not about that. Maybe you remember, maybe you have forgotten, but before our marriage, you caught me with another man. With Matthew Brown, to be precise. You were shocked but felt sorry for me, saying that you hated to trap me up with someone like yourself. I have always remembered the feeling of guilt that washed over the three of us. Matthew felt guilty because he thought he was making it hard on me, you felt guilty because you didn’t want me to think that I had done something wrong and I felt guilty because I felt like I was already committing adultery, right before your eyes. And thus we stood there, staring at each other in silence, eyes shifting from one to another. On the day of our marriage, Matthew and I kissed. We were alone in the bathroom for a minute or two and before we knew it, we were kissing. I was sitting on the sink, legs folded around Matthew’s waist. And then the war came. Matthew and I were sent off to protect England. On one side, I felt guilty for indulging in this forbidden pleasure, but on the other side I realized I wouldn’t be able to be happy any other way. In the war, I met a man named Hannibal Lecter. He was really interested in me and made no pretense of it, intimidating me with the way he lured at me. He seemed to come closer and closer to me as the war went on, and eventually he raped me. The last two years of the war, I was raped several times by this psycho, who claimed he loved me. And just half a year before the war ended, I finally had the guts to tell Matthew about everything. Hannibal overheard us and killed Matthew. I remember how he looked me in the eyes, cold and emotionless. His lips formed words he had spoken to me time and time again: ‘keep it secret: you know you have to’. As I said, I returned home half a year later. And when I fell in your arms I cried. I just needed to. I decided – however – that I should just try to start over. I had lost Matthew but I had a life to live. Then so be it, a voice in my head told me. Then that was what I was going to do, or try. I watched the seasons change for the last ten years. I watched James grow up, and yet I wasn’t happy. Please don’t blame yourself now: you were – no, you still are a beautiful woman and a perfect wife, but I felt my love had lived and died elsewhere. In my heart, I still remained with Matthew. I longed to be with Matthew again, to kiss him like I had when he lied in my arms for the last time, when his breath stopped. And now I’ve finally succumbed to these longings. We shall be together, there where eternity awaits us, and I will wait for you to join us.

To my son James:

I don’t really know what to say to you, besides that I love you dearly. You’re my son and I have tried to stay here for you. Unfortunately, fate won’t let you choose your own ending. Some things are meant to be, some things aren’t. I have accepted now that me being happy with Matthew Brown isn’t one of them. Please read the part above or ask Bedelia, because I don’t have the power to write it down anymore. Despite the fact that I haven’t hung myself yet, life is already draining out of me. Sorry that I’m going to make you go through all of this suffering. I love you dearly, but I can’t keep on putting you up with a miserable father like myself. A man who will always long for someone he can’t get. For someone who died for my sake. Goodbye, my dear son. I’m sorry that it all had to happen like this. So incredibly sorry.

To Hannibal Lecter:

Finally you succeeded in ruining me. After ten years, I finally break. For ten years, I’ve been suffering, trying to keep it all inside. At nights I would cry myself to sleep, unable to let go of my consciousness any other way. Closing my eyes, I can still hear you say those damned words: ‘keep it secret: you know you have to’. And there is something I still hate you for: I can’t say I hated every single second I spent with you. You made me feel pleasure I had hoped to experience with Matthew and him alone. Some little voice in the back of my head wants to say that I actually love you too, but I just can’t put it on paper like that. I try to fight the affectionate feelings I have for you, and I would do anything to prevent them from acting up. I won’t love you, ever. I will only remember you as the man who raped me, as the man who killed my dearest Matthew. Not that I will be able to remember anything in a minute or ten. I just want you to know that I don’t love you and that you’ve finally succeeded in breaking my spirit. You finally made me give up on life. I hope you’re happy that way.

I hope you guys live happily ever after. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made, and apparently, my life is one of them. Manchmal ist es besser sofort zu sterben als jeden Tag ein bisschen.

Love from Will Graham

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for reading. It means a lot to me. If you have any ideas for the story (or any other story) please comment. Prompts are also welcome.
> 
> The German line at the end means "Sometimes it's better to die immediately, than to die a bit every day". I took the quote from the musical Rudolf - Affaire Mayerling.


End file.
